At the bar

The Orchid Room is a collaborative writing project. Anyone can participate. Just a leave a comment like talking to the bartender or one of the performers. If you would like a night on stage you can audition anywhere.
This week the Orchid Room is proud to announce all new management.
And we are serving food prepared by
Wilbur Cox Jn. (Wil, to his mates.)
The wine is supplied by the wonderful folk at
The Grateful Palate.

Who

“Finally!” she said to the driver as she climbed her slender frame into the massive vehicle. “I was beginning to wonder if I was going to have to do this by myself,” she muttered as she removed white plugs from ears hidden behind long bleached locks. “Do you know what could have happened to me out here?” she continued in her drawl.

“Look, baby I got busy,” the driver said, a glint of anger in eyes that were squinted tightly and bordered by a furrowed brow. “I had some things to take care of. Do you have what we need?”

“Of course I do,” she said, pulling from her couture handbag ten packs of c-notes tightly wrapped together in one big bundle. “I got it right here,” she chuckled, and then leaned over and kissed him on the lips. “No need to worry, you know I always do what I say I am going to do.”

Through the corner of his eye he could see her cross lean long legs and his body ached longingly. He was no longer upset at her histrionics. The sight of her smooth skin forced him to battle instinct, and he kept his hand firmly gripped around the steering wheel. Her heady musk permeated his van and made him lightheaded. He stared at her as she lay her curls on the head rest while glancing out of the window. She hummed a soft tune that battled the music spitting out of his vans speakers and everything was good. But only for this moment.